


When the Sun Rises

by utsu



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Marking, Power Dynamics, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-09-03 19:06:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8726680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/utsu/pseuds/utsu
Summary: He focused single-mindedly on Yuuri and on promises; and Yuuri, well.
Yuuri taught him how to master both.
By mastering him.





	

He was beautiful.

Viktor could remember the way his breath had caught in his throat, the sudden heaviness of his chest, the absolute _breathlessness_.

There was a beautiful stranger, and he moved like liquid magic glazed in starlight, wrapped fortuitously in Viktor’s own music; his every shifting move something intimate and secretive, lucrative in its expressiveness, boundless in its depth. He moved, and Viktor’s breath _hitched_ , and there was something about the way the world had never quite shifted just like _that_ beneath his feet.

Until—

Katsuki Yuuri.

 

✧

 

One step forward, three steps back.

Every time Viktor pushed, Yuuri pushed back _harder_ ; it was invigorating. Viktor couldn’t remember the last time he’d faced a real challenge, most especially off the ice. But now, every time he turned over his shoulder there was the shorter, shuffling stride of someone who defied his ever-faultless record of finding everything _easy_.

Short, shuffling strides; bangs in front of blue frames, obscuring his vision. Rounded shoulders, trembling fingers; Viktor’s eyes sheared off every one of Yuuri’s features, as sharp as they were intent.

“Yuuri,” he called, his tone playfully upbeat. “Don’t you want to hold hands?”

He watched with a certain kind of expectancy as heat flared under the tanned hue of Yuuri’s skin, the most startlingly beautiful flush of crimson, called forth so willingly at Viktor’s beckoning.

Yuuri ducked his head, reaching up to push at some of the hair hanging in front of his eyes. He glanced sidelong at Viktor, not willing to turn to him directly and show exactly how riled he was at the simple remark. Viktor’s heart rate spiked, and simple as it was, Viktor thought, this, too, was a challenge.

He reached out, then, without hesitation; threaded his fingers through Yuuri’s and tugged only enough to get Yuuri to stumble right there against his side, a measured amount of force. Yuuri straightened with only a grumble, staying tucked against Viktor’s side, the curve of his hip bumping lightly against Viktor’s in gentle reproach.

Viktor turned his gaze back ahead of them and couldn’t help but to allow the smile already growing across his expression to bloom. It curled over the edges of his lips and threw light into his already bright eyes, and Viktor wondered how much more striking he looked while loving Yuuri.

 

✧

 

Their relationship was a series of steps, forward and back, one way or another.

But never around; there weren’t many things in the world that could separate Viktor from Yuuri, or vice versa. If Viktor stepped back, left Yuuri there on the cold cement of an underground parking garage, Yuuri stepped forward. Yuuri demanded.

He said, “Just have more faith than I do that I´ll win!” And Viktor, for all of his steadfast confidence, the steel cord of his spine, felt himself _tremble_.

Yuuri had always surprised him, moving in directions Viktor himself never even thought to shift. That changed, too. Not the surprise, nor the direction, but the way that Viktor learned to _adapt_. Yuuri moved swiftly around conventional patterns of beauty and strength and made a mold of his own, and Viktor trailed after him breathlessly, with stubborn determination to not be left behind by the only person in the world who had ever held him enraptured.

The change was this: Viktor getting used to being the _prey_.

Yuuri navigated the world in steps of lyricism and uncertainty, tinged with startling moments of confidence, ebbing and flowing, and Viktor found himself actually having to try to keep up.

Viktor had always been a master at any subject he put his mind to, though promises made to anyone other than himself had always been a little lacking in follow-through. But it was only a short while spent with Yuuri before Viktor learned the key to keeping promises: to care—to care so much that a promise made was just another bond tying him to Yuuri and he’d be damned if ever he were to _break it_.

He solidified it in every new step, forward and backward, never around. He moved with Yuuri through their relationship in just the same way he imagined he would on the ice, a duet, a pair—

Love in every tender fiber of his being, the gentleness that came despite the quivering jolt of adrenaline at center ice, the feeling of solid ground under his blades and Yuuri tucked there so gently against his chest, fluttering like a singing heartbeat.

Bare skin against his own, Yuuri’s audible breaths, stirring the hair over his forehead. Their bodies moving against one another, the slick slide of skin welled with the sweat of exertion.

Yuuri’s fingertips sliding over his palm, his knuckles, the very tips of his fingers before his body turns and his feet lift him into the air, through it, twisting in a multitude of skill and shining gems that can do nothing to match the brilliance of his expression even as he sails over the ice and lands _ever,_ _so, perfectly_.

This, Viktor thought selfishly, was the only time that he could accept Yuuri turning away from him.

The thought of them together on the ice is a safeground where the rules that applied in the real world couldn’t touch them, and Viktor could trail his fingers over Yuuri’s skin one moment, just as soon as he tossed him through the air into a perfect twist the next. On the ice, he would never have to worry about Yuuri not returning to his arms, the safety of his certain embrace.

The shelter of his chest, where his heart thumps rapidly with excitement, exultation; calling out only to Yuuri, to _Yuuri_.

“Viktor,” Yuuri breathed, and every single chill that raced down the fine line of Viktor’s spine belonged to that voice; every trembling strand of muscle and tendon and ligament in the stock of his strong body, so worn from so many years of intense training; every breath trapped in the cage of his chest, begging around a name Viktor could never say enough; every electrically firing neuron that pulsed and tingled and raced along the delicate makings of Viktor’s entire existence; every last bit of him _belonged_ , to this, to Yuuri, to what they had made _together_.

He imagined his fingers sliding over Yuuri’s skin, his muscles tensing and contracting, the power of Yuuri in his arms for only a moment before he set him free to the glamour of center stage, and Viktor dropped to his knees until the hardwood reminded him of the present, of reality, of the way that he wasn’t the only one who _trembled_.

He glanced up the rounded planes of Yuuri’s magnificent body, his eyes heavy-lidded and intent, and watched the way his own name got caught on Yuuri’s gleaming lips.

Viktor had learned how to keep a promise; Yuuri was a master of his own right, and Viktor was an ever-judicious student.

He focused single-mindedly on Yuuri and on promises; and Yuuri, well.

Yuuri taught him how to master _both_.

By mastering him.

 

✧

 

“You’re quiet this morning,” Yuuri whispered, reaching out to brush Viktor’s bangs away from his forehead. Viktor watched the way Yuuri’s eyes studied him, the lines at the corners built from a frequency of smiles, and the luster of his heavy amber eyes that Viktor knew was entirely inherent. A Yuuri-specific joy that only Viktor had ever drawn out, covetously.

Viktor smiled, devious. “You want me to be loud?”

Yuuri was unimpeded by the purposefully lewd suggestion, instead firing back with, “Later. It’s just different.”

“Different,” Viktor hummed, wrapping his leg back around Yuuri’s hip until he could pull them flush together. He allowed his right hand to rub idly at Yuuri’s back, his fingertips periodically reaching for the sensitive spot on Yuuri’s nape. He moved up a bit to rest his jaw on his left fist, elbow bent against the pillows, and stared down at Yuuri with open fondness. He moved his free hand up from Yuuri’s back to just barely graze Yuuri’s earlobe with a single fingertip, just enough to tickle, and watched the way Yuuri’s expression scrunched in response.

“I just love you very much,” Viktor said, just as Yuuri’s eyes squeezed closed. It was a treat to watch them open again, slowly and with wonder, looking up at him from under his eyelashes. Viktor was weak to that expression, the open truth of it, and the way that Yuuri gave it to him so freely. He dipped low until he could kiss the tip of Yuuri’s nose, a gesture Yuuri often harassed him for by calling it _cheesy_ , though Viktor heard no complaint from him now.

He leaned back only a breath, only enough to watch the way the brightness of Yuuri’s eyes shifted in fragments, gold, gold, _gold_ , and moved back in to kiss his lips at long last.

He loved kissing Yuuri; he could kiss him endlessly, at times slowly, with all the time left in the world to savor him, and at other times with a fervent brand of passion that left them equally breathless and exhausted, but so, so contentedly sated.

He pulled lightly at Yuuri’s upper lip, nibbling just enough to be playful, and gasped into Yuuri’s mouth when he felt the world shift around him. Yuuri pushed and Viktor pulled, and he felt Yuuri’s thighs—strong and thick and _powerful_ —tucked just along his hips. Yuuri threaded their fingers together against the sheets, and he kissed Viktor with enough passion to knock every ounce of his playfulness aside.

Yuuri bit Viktor’s bottom lip, _hard_ , and Viktor rewarded his insistence with a moan that shook them both. It started from the core of him, rebounding outwards in shivers that raced over his body until his had to pull his head back against the pillow, exposing the column of his throat. Yuuri moved without hesitation, pressing his lips first to the hollow under the right side of Viktor’s jaw, just under and inside the bone, before trailing a fine line down the elegance of Viktor’s throat with the edges of his _teeth_.

“Yuuri,” he begged, and there was nothing certain in that call. Yuuri laved his tongue over Viktor’s skin in response, relentless in his own brand of teasing, and his right hand untangled from Viktor’s. He might have complained for the loss of even a fraction of Yuuri’s heat, had that hand not immediately sought a different kind of heat, a more insistent kind of heat.

Yuuri’s fingertips slid over his bare skin until they wrapped around the length of him, strong and sure and so damn _hot_. Viktor choked on Yuuri’s name while Yuuri’s hand began to move, to pump, and Viktor could feel the head of his cock grazing against the soft swell of Yuuri’s ass with every pull.

He bit his lip hard enough the he was sure he’d bleed, and even so quickly, with just Yuuri’s hand on him, he could hear nothing but the rushing of his rapidly beating heart in his ears. It was a cacophony of ocean’s waves against the shore of his stable body, unmoving under the weight and pressure and _push_ of Yuuri’s body and intentions. He could barely breathe with the want of it all, with how desperately he wanted Yuuri in every way, always.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he hissed, when Yuuri’s hand slid just enough for his thumb to graze lightly under the head of his cock, where he was most sensitive. He could feel the weight of Yuuri’s cock between them, too, and there were so many different sources of heat to focus on that Viktor felt himself burning up, succumbing to the flames.

But then, so effortlessly and as he was like to do, Yuuri was there to comfort him, to save him.

He shushed him, the gentleness of his tone and the way he shifted from nibbling to sucking to simply pressing kisses almost consolingly against Viktor’s throat was a comfort and a constraint. Viktor wanted that gentleness, desperately, but he wanted the unabated heat of him too, the persistence that led him to ice skating, to Viktor, to _gold_.

He wanted it _all_.

“Viktor,” Yuuri breathed, and Viktor was glad that his voice trembled, too. That he was equally shaken by the way their naked bodies pressed together, their breaths sparing few words outside of one another’s’ names.

Yuuri gave another slow, gentle slide of his hand, a deft flick of his wrist, waiting for Viktor’s moan before reassuring him. “I’ve got you.”

“You do,” Viktor agreed, nearly laughing from the heat and the need and the joy, “You have me.”

“You’re mine,” Yuuri whispered to solidify the point, even quieter, and Viktor pressed his hips up against Yuuri’s, pressed his cock up further through Yuuri’s grip.

He wondered if Yuuri knew that his heart was _right there,_ between them, hanging in the balance of the way they came together.

“ _Please_ ,” Viktor begged, and this time, Yuuri obeyed. His fingers came away from Viktor’s cock one by one, another playful challenge, and it took more restraint on Viktor’s part to keep his hips from coming off the mattress again than he’d admit—at least for now. Later, when Yuuri was shy again, blushing with his head ducked in embarrassment, Viktor would lean down until his lips pressed against Yuuri’s ear and tell him every single way he had wanted to beg for Yuuri to fuck him.

But for now, he could barely breathe around the wanting and the way that Yuuri positioned himself so carefully over Viktor’s groin. He reached down without hesitation to grasp Viktor’s wrist, pulling his hand away from Yuuri’s hip until he could slide Viktor’s fingers into his mouth. Viktor watched him from under his eyelashes, watched the way that Yuuri closed his eyes because he was embarrassed, even as he slid his tongue between Viktor’s pointer and middle fingers. He only pulled away when Viktor’s fingers were well and truly wet with saliva, before bringing those same fingers back and around to his ass.

He opened his eyes then, cheeks bright red and lips trembling, and he asked, “Is this okay?”

And Viktor, for all the world knew of him as the essence of cool confidence and impulsivity, had to squeeze his own eyes shut to tamp down on the urge to simply rut up against Yuuri right then, until he could push into him completely. Restraint had never been one of his strong suits, he hadn’t ever had a need for it.

It was all the more frustrating and delicious, now that he knew exactly what kind of situation could require it, and how _bad_ at it he was. He gave himself a long moment to get control, to force his hips to stay still, though there was nothing he could do for the rapid racing of his heart. When he opened his eyes again, Yuuri didn’t appear concerned as much as he was simply waiting for Viktor to even out.

Viktor sat up with a simple flex of his abdominal muscles, and didn’t miss the way that Yuuri’s gaze dropped in time to see it all. He brought the hand they still had tangled up between them, and slid his free hand close enough to trail lightly over delicate skin, making Yuuri shiver from base to shoulders.

“This is perfect,” he agreed, pressing his lips against Yuuri’s throat as he gently nudged one finger inside. Yuuri’s fingers tightened around his own, and his free hand came around Viktor’s shoulders, his head falling back to bare his throat to Viktor’s every desire. He peppered tiny kisses in small arcs as he moved first one finger inside of Yuuri, and then two, and three. He took his time, enjoying the quiet mewling sounds Yuuri seemed so embarrassed to be making, smiling against his skin whenever Yuuri couldn’t hide a moan.

He left hickeys in his wake, possessively marking, unabashed of his own need to have the world know that Yuuri belonged so completely to him. He thought it fair, considering the scratches he’d later have along his chest, and the possibility of gentle bite marks against his shoulder. Marks of his own, his to keep for however long they’d remain, until he could coax more out of his shy lover.

Yuuri’s hips moved against him, tantalizing and endearing, but Viktor didn’t change his intent or his movements. He smiled against Yuuri’s lightly bruising throat, three fingers moving carefully inside of him, and waited for his shyness to recede just enough for him to get _demanding._

It didn’t take long, and Viktor was glad for it.

“ _Vitya_ ,” Yuuri hissed, when Viktor deliberately brushed his thumb against the sensitive underside of Yuuri’s balls. “ _Hurry_. Please.”

Viktor didn’t need to be told twice. He gave one last playful twist of his fingers before carefully, slowly moving them out until he could grip himself. His fingers were still warm from the heat of Yuuri, and he savored the burn against his tender skin as he gave himself a few cursory tugs before lining himself up, knees bending to draw Yuuri further against his hips.

“Yuuri,” he breathed, nearly singing his name, “Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri.”

He could feel the heat of Yuuri’s embarrassment against his racing heart, the way Yuuri’s flush flowed from his cheeks to his throat to the skin of his chest. He pushed slowly up into him, until the head of his cock was submerged in wet heat, and Yuuri groaned long and low beside his ear. Yuuri pressed his forehead against Viktor’s temple as he pushed further, and he knew he was being too gentle with him, that Yuuri would reprimand him any time now, but he was still a selfish man.

And this, the wet heat and the acceptance of Yuuri allowing him so close to him, closer even than anyone in the world had ever been and would ever be, he _savored_.

“Please,” Yuuri choked, and it was his turn to beg. Even still, it was Viktor that relented, who bent to his panting breaths, the way his beautiful lips curled around Viktor’s name. He shifted Yuuri against him, his right hand still twined with Yuuri’s and resting against their chests, and then he _surged_.

His hips snapped up until there was no telling where Yuuri ended and he began, and Viktor’s name became a bedraggled moan torn from somewhere deep and tender inside of Yuuri, and Viktor’s restraint fractured. He fell back against the bed and brought Yuuri with him, ignoring his surprise at the sudden move, and his startled yelp when Viktor allowed his hips to slam repeatedly up into him, coming clearly off the bed. Yuuri pressed much of his weight into their twined hands, now pushed into the sheets against the mattress by Viktor’s head, and he rode out the sudden untampered passion of Viktor’s hips.

“Oh,” he moaned, and Viktor could barely look away from the expression on his face when he sat up and began to use his thighs to move along with Viktor’s rhythm; the way he closed his eyes and his lips parted, every breath nearly audible, his shoulders hitching a little towards his ears. Even with the gentleness of his taken expression, he kept pace and moved right along with Viktor’s thrusting, shifting his ass until Viktor drove even deeper.

“Right there, oh,” he breathed, and Viktor would not let him down, not in this, and he hoped not in anything. But this, he could do without worrying, so he planted his feet against the bed and he slammed his hips against Yuuri’s ass, right there at the spot Yuuri dictated and he allowed his eyes to drop down to Yuuri’s flushed cock as it bobbed against their lower abdomens. Viktor released Yuuri’s hip and noted the few seconds where his fingertips marred the skin there, before disappearing with the flush of Yuuri’s skin. He moved his hand to grip the sheets beside his head and bit his lip, groaning long and low as Yuuri’s ass clenched around him.

“Yes,” Yuuri breathed suddenly, and Viktor blinked slowly, watching rapturously as Yuuri brought his free hand to his own cock and began to tug himself nearly as quickly as Viktor thrust into him. Viktor’s heart raged within him, his chest feeling somehow simultaneously heavy and light, and he wondered at the power of their connection, and how it seemed to knock the breath right out of him even as it revitalized him.

He watched Yuuri move his hips in desperation over him, watched the way he could see his cock pushing up and into Yuuri with every powerful push, the noises they were making more than obscene. Yuuri grew louder and louder the closer he got to orgasm, too desperate to be embarrassed, and his hand gripped tighter, moved faster over his own cock until Viktor’s pace slowed and he reached forward and grasped Yuuri’s wrist to still him.

Yuuri’s eyes opened and he stared down at Viktor in frustrated curiosity even as Viktor entangled their fingers, allowing Yuuri to push all his weight evenly on hands and hips, and Viktor began to push as deep inside of him as he could, never once looking away.

“Yuuri,” He said tenderly, and just the sound of his name in Viktor’s voice had Yuuri shivering, biting his lip. His eyes were glassy with passion, so close to completion, and he listened so well in his desperation. “I want you to come like this, with just my cock in your ass.”

Yuuri groaned, embarrassed and turned on, and Viktor couldn’t help his lazy smile. He kept his measured pace for only a moment, pushing carefully deep, before he allowed his hips to start their final stretch of a brutally aggressive pace. He thrust and thrust and Yuuri melted over him, becoming nothing more than a flushed and begging mess of _yes, yes, please, yes_.

And Viktor gave it to him, everything he had, all of him.

And when Yuuri finally came, his ass tightening nearly painfully around Viktor’s cock, his every utterance was Viktor’s name, his fingers tightening against Viktor’s until his knuckles turned white. He came over Viktor’s abdomen, over the dips and the grooves, and Viktor continued to thrust powerfully into him throughout his orgasm, wanting it to last, to draw it out, and he did.

Yuuri shook and shook and then he melted down against Viktor until their chests pressed together and Yuuri tucked his face against Viktor’s throat, uncaring of the come between them.

“Thank you,” he breathed, and Viktor’s eyes clenched tight, his own groan muffled through gritted teeth as his hips snapped one final time, pushing his cock as deep as he could possibly get it. His orgasm wracked his entire body, and he came inside of Yuuri as he always did, and this, too, was familiar. He felt Yuuri’s smile press against his neck.

He was still shaking even several long moments later when the aftershocks had already stopped, a fine tremor that was completely Yuuri’s doing. He was still seated inside of Yuuri, unmoving, and when Yuuri sat up enough to untangle one of their hands to rest his hand on Viktor’s chest, and his chin on his hand, Viktor could do nothing but bask in the heavy-lidded fondness Yuuri graced him with.

“You feel so good,” he whispered, that sudden confidence returning long enough for him to wriggle his hips just enough to make Viktor gasp. His newly freed hand shot to Yuuri’s hips, holding him down against him, and it was difficult to decide between holding him still or shifting him into a slow and grueling pace neither of them was prepared for.

Yuuri had always had incredible stamina, however; it was Viktor that wasn’t yet physically prepared. Both the way that Yuuri tightened his grip on Viktor’s left hand, and the expression that moved over Yuuri’s face said he _knew it_ , too.

And that he was fully prepared to do something about it.

Viktor licked his lips, and Yuuri smiled.

Together, anything was possible.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
